February 20, 2015

What Grief Has Taught Me

February two years ago – life was pretty simple. I was pregnant and beyond excited about having my twin girls to complete my family. Dilemmas would be what date I’d finish work or when Next would get another stock in of the gorgeous cow print sleepsuits I so desperately wanted.
February one year ago – we were told that my Moms Cancer had spread and there was nothing else they could do. The bottom of my world fell out hearing the two words – stage four. No one ever wants to be stage four yet here I am trying to process this.
February now – heartbroken. Lost. Bewildered. Stunned that the past year has gone by so quickly. That this world of pain that hit me then has not shifted by intensified more than I ever thought was possible. How has it been ten months since I last saw her and spoke to her. How have I coped ten months without having a Mom. How can I even comprehend this being normality?

I had an incredibly eye opening conversation with two different people at two different times. One had never had any trauma in their life. The other had been dealt a pretty shit hand. I was humbled by how differently people react to things having traumatic life experiences. The mundane crap no longer seems relevant. Your tolerance to trivial issues hits an all time low. Grief has made me bitter. Grief has made me angry. Grief…has changed me completely.

I am angry when I see people moaning about having a splinter or having to wait in a queue; what I would do for this to be the worst thing to happen in a day!
I am bitter when I see people who are my Moms age sitting with their Mom; I’m half their age yet will never ever get to do this. My children will never grow up knowing stories about their Mom when she was little. They will never get to pop round and spend an hour with their Gran. Charlie will never get to drive her to pick up her shopping like she always used to joke with him about. The girls…won’t even remember her. That absolutely floors me.

But you know what else grief has taught me? How bloody strong I am.
I’m not one for ever tooting my own horn but my god. I think it’s pretty amazing that since my girls were 3 weeks old we have had Cancer hanging over us like a dirty horrible cloud but everyday we got up, got dressed and got on with it. I had 2 tiny babies, 10 school runs a week and never once have been late. My husband works away and often at weekends too and with very little support I’ve done it. I’ve had to deal with the trauma of my mother dying and I’m still standing. Some days less upright than others but I’m here. And my kids are happy. I did it! I’ve survived the worst pain imaginable and still have 3 beautiful children who love me and keep me sane(ish!) This pain will never shift but I promised to look after them all and my god I will.
When all you want to do is fade away into that duvet, closing all the noise and light from the outside world off, these little people depend on you. So no matter what time I was up until breaking my heart, no matter how angry bitter and distraught I feel, grief has shown me – you can get through it. Not over it but through it. It hurts; bloody hell it hurts like hell but I can and will cope. I am – every second on every day. I have no choice; my children need me and I need them.

Grief – I wish we hadn’t had to have met for at least another 20 years. But we are stuck with each other. So when I’m having a down day try not to be too hard. Show me the glimmers of good in each day. Remind me to smile through the pain as these treasured memories sadly now are all I have left. But give me the energy to make more wonderful lifelong memories – with my babies just like my Mom had with hers.

B xx

The Reading Residence
November 11, 2014

Another Milestone

Today is my birthday. But I feel no desire to celebrate or even enjoy this day. It’s just another first; a first of many when it’s thrust into the forefront that she is no longer here.

A card that is now just signed from my Dad. I can feel the anguish he must feel signing a card from just him. No longer a couple. No longer my parents now just my Father.

29 years ago I caused you severe grief. Hopefully since then I didn’t cause too much more. An eventful birth and lifelong of backache were the consequences on this day in 1985. As I am now a Mother you can’t help but too feel a sense of excitement when your child’s birthday comes around. No matter how many years go by you still cast your memory back to that moment when you first laid eyes on your baby. I was and always will be my Moms littlest baby. Half a year I’ve spent without her. Everyone tells me it gets easier – it doesn’t. It’s getting worse. The wrenching of your heart, the pain in your chest, the thinking in your head all when it comes crashing in – she’s not coming back.

I hate all of these “occasions” Fed up of plastering on a smile. She was not only my Mom but she was like MY twin. We had the same thought processes, same likes and dislikes, same ridiculous sense of humour. We saw each other pretty much everyday but if not an endless stream of texts and calls. How do you recover from a loss of someone like that?

Today is the day that she brought me safely into this world. She almost sacrificed herself in this quest and spent the day sedated. But she did it. And I got to spend 28 years proudly calling her my Mom. I can’t comprehend that I will spend the next 28 missing her. Missing her so so very much.

October 21, 2014

Lynda Bellingham

When famous people die it can often be sad but you read the articles and empathise perhaps even shed a tear but it’s life eh? Cruel cruel life. 
 
However the story of Lynda Bellingham has really struck a chord with me. Her openness on the disease, her humour and her brutal honesty about dying has made it incredibly hard to read yet unbelievably inspirational. 

Her type of cancer is not considered “glamorous” there are no campaigns about your boobs or balls to make it young and trendy, just like lung cancer it doesn’t get press. Female 74.0% for a year and just under half of bowel cancer patients 55.6% will live over five years. I’m hoping that her legacy will try to reduce that rate. Could you tell me any symptoms of bowel cancer? Nope. Me either. 

 The three main symptoms of bowel cancer are :

  1. blood in the stools (faeces),
  2. a change in bowel habit (such as to more frequent, looser stools)
  3. abdominal pain.
Lung cancer is by far the most common cause of cancer death in the UK. More than one in five (22%) cancer deaths in males and females combined are from lung cancer. Bowel cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death (10%) and, despite being extremely rare in men, breast cancer is the third most common cause of cancer deaths overall (7%) ( all statistics taken from www.cancerresearchuk.org ) 

When the stories first broke I found it hard to hear. Terminal cancer is still incredibly raw and at the forefront of most of my daily thoughts – but how could you not be drawn to this lady laying it bare – she’s got cancer and is going to die. I drew parallels and felt what she was saying is how my wonderful Mother felt yet did not disclose. 
Lynda Bellingham helped me understand unspoken conversations. Made me sob my eyes out at thinking how Mom must have felt but these two women – one a national figure and the other the one who brought me into the world – neither moaned. Neither took the ‘woe is me mentality’. Both knew their days were numbered but decided that they would take the control back that this evil disease had dealt them. 

I wish Lynda had made her final Christmas, just like I so desperately wanted my Mom to be there for my girls first birthday but sadly cancer stopped both of them from reaching these milestones.  I often in my bleaker moments try to put myself in that position – knowing that your days are numbered, your time is limited, celebrating days knowing that you won’t be around for the next one. How can you muster the strength and put on a brave face day in day out? My Mom never cried. She never broke down. She never moaned about the sheer agony that must have taken over her entire body. Alas, at the end she tired of the life that was now hers and her body gave in. But that wasn’t her. Lynda Bellingham gave cancer a voice. A face to answer back what millions are going through. I’m sure she would have been embtassed to be called a hero but that’s what she truly is. To so eloquently talk about dying with such dignity and humour – Lynda Bellingham, I take my hat off to you. May you rest in peace up there with my Mama. Two fabulous courageous ladies taken too soon.
Lets stand up to cancer. It’s taking too many of the good ones.
Text Five to 70404 to donate £5 to Cancer Research. Lets beat cancer sooner.